


Of Knights and Cabers

by lothkitten



Category: Dear Frankie
Genre: F/M, Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lothkitten/pseuds/lothkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Any information about Highland Games and Caber Tossing was gathered from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highland_Games">this Wiki page</a> and my own experiences at such events.</p></blockquote>





	Of Knights and Cabers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brocanteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/gifts).



Lizzie watched anxiously as her son hefted the small wooden pole up to balance it against his shoulder, grinning over at her blindingly. She smoothed the worry from her face and smiled back at him, waving a little. He might have filled out a lot in the past few years, but not so much that the task didn't seem almost too much for him. He looked seriously at her for a moment, his grin fading as he chewed on his lip, concentrating on the ground in front of him. Running forward, he flung the pole away from him, watching hopefully as one end landed... before falling flat against the soft turf. The crowd groaned for him and he looked up at his mother and shrugged. She smiled reassuringly as he straightened his sweater and almost too-small kilt (one more growth spurt and he'd have to have a new one) and picked up the pole again for his last try. From out of the crowd of helpfully cheering onlookers, a voice called out to the boy that Lizzie hadn't heard in almost two years.

"12 o'clock, Frankie! Ye can land it!"

It was the Stranger's voice, Marie's brother. The person Lizzie had tried so hard not to look for had somehow found her, or at least had found Frankie. Lizzie turned at once to look, but the crowd had shifted and he was gone. _Just like him, the bastard,_ she thought rather wryly. A pipe band wandered by, further stirring the throng. She strained her eyes through the glare of the late afternoon sun, shading her gaze with one hand and scanning the mass of tall sweatered-and-kilted men, silently damning him for being so typically Scottish. She suddenly decided she didn't care what her pride, or whatever it was that had kept her from begging Marie to pass along a letter or a message to him directly, told her to do. He was here, she knew it. Blindly fighting her way in the direction the voice had come from, she stopped as she heard a thud, followed by another and the crowd shouting a cheer. She turned and realised that she couldn't see, that she couldn't see her Frankie and it was him they were cheering for. He'd landed the caber and she'd missed it, all in some fruitless search. What a horrible mother she was sometimes.

"Please let me through, that's my son!" Lizzie pleaded, the clump of people in front of her slowly parting as she pushed through. And there, in the middle of the sectioned-off bit of field, stood her son, grinning up at the Stranger excitedly, laughing as his hair was ruffled. She paused a moment, the utter and complete rightness of the scene overwhelming her. Then the Stranger looked up and saw her. Her breath caught in her throat. She'd managed to move past the soft longing ache she'd felt after he'd left. Or so she had thought. But with him standing there, his hand protectively, proudly resting on Frankie's shoulder as the judges finished grading his toss, well, Lizzie knew that if there was any reasonable way she could keep him in their lives, in her life, she would fight for it. But she knew, she'd rationalized over and over when she was not-thinking about him, that it had been long enough that she was sure he'd moved on. Not that there had been anything, really, for him to move on _from_.

"Lizzie, he made 11:30, I'd stake m' life on it!" he said, meeting Frankie's enthusiastic high-five for the millionth time, all the while staring at her.

"Did ye now, Frankie boy?" Lizzie said, catching her son in a fierce hug, which he immediately wriggled out of, sticking out his tongue at her for the childish pet name and the public display of motherly affection.

"Aye, he di', at tha'" responded the most ancient of the judges, a burly highlander of a man in full regalia, who had come over to congratulate the boy. "One o' the best scores frae a junior tha' I've seen in years. Ye'll get a medal for it at the ceilidh ina bi', an they'll let ye come." He looked down at Frankie, grinning. "Your da and mum must be verra proud o' ye!"

Frankie grinned cheekily and slipped an arm around both their waists, nodding, looking up at Lizzie innocently. She blushed desperately, giving him her patented glare before cringingly meeting the Stranger's eyes. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and eyes, warming her instantly.

"Aye, weel, tha'll be up ta his mum," the Stranger said, not taking his eyes from hers.

"Of course he'll be there," she replied, smiling faintly, pulling her glance from his at last.

"Good, good," the elderly man replied gruffly, patting Frankie on the head before heading back to judge the next toss.

"We'd best get our seats a' the ceilidh, an we want good ones," prodded the Stranger gently, brushing unsure fingers against Lizzie's arm. She took a quick breath, flushing more and attempting to cover it by nodding a little too quickly, dislodging the tam she wore. Their eyes met as Frankie raced to pick it up, both laughing breathlessly.

A few hours later, with Frankie finally seated off in a corner being waited on by Catriona, the Stranger looked over at Lizzie and took her hand.

"I've missed ye. Marie's been keepin' me in touch with what's been going on wi' the two of ye. As I'm sure ye know, I've not been back home since 'til now."

"No, I... I didn't know," she replied, shaking her head, "I guessed so, but I didn't want to... well, ask." She grimaced a little, looking away.

"Why, Lizzie? Why didna ye want ta know?" he leaned forward, brushing a finger against her cheek lightly.

She paused for a moment, opening her mouth to respond but pausing as a familiar melody began to flood from the group of musicians at the front of the room. She looked up at him, biting at her lip to keep from getting too emotional. He smiled.

"I gave a note ta Frankie for Catriona ta give ta them... 'tis been two years, Lizzie, I dinna want ta loose ye again," he stopped, searching her face intently, "If ye want me ta stay."

In answer, she stood, reaching out her hand to him, smiling first at him and then over at her Frankie, who, for once, was too engrossed in keeping Catriona busy to pay attention to what his elders did. The Stranger stood, taking her hand and leading her down the row of tables to where other couples swayed to her beloved, "Great White Horse."

"I want you to stay," she whispered after a few moments.

"Good, I want ta stay," he replied, tipping his head to brush his lips against hers slowly, hugging her closer as they danced.

 __

 __

  
"When I was a young girl I used to dream of a lover  
To be my shining knight of strength one day  
He carried me to a castle in the heavens  
And battle all my dragons on the way  
And he'd ride down on a great white horse  
He'd bring me love I was longing for  
He'd bring me charm and lasting peace  
On a great white horse he'd ride away with me."

  


**Author's Note:**

> Any information about Highland Games and Caber Tossing was gathered from [this Wiki page](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highland_Games) and my own experiences at such events.


End file.
